A Court of Answered Dreams
by ThePrettiestHell
Summary: Sarah J. Maas' A Court of Mist and Fury from Rhysand's POV. Begins when Rhys says goodbye to Feyre Under the Mountain and into ACOMAF. Though I'll never be able to reach the greatness of SJM, I'm going to try my best. *Spoilers*
1. Chapter 1

**Note:** Hi, friends! I'm going to attempt to write ACOMAF from Rhys' POV. It's a very monumental task, especially since I know I will never be able to meet the greatness of SJM's writing/characters/plots/etc., but I'm going to try anyways. I still haven't decided if I want to write in third person or first, so bear with me if there is a change in writing style. This first chapter is my toe in the water and may be a tad on the boring side, so I apologize in advance. Wish me luck and I hope you like it... And here goes.

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Breathing out a sigh, Rhysand looked out at the snowcapped mountains as he let his wings unfurl behind him. The High Lord of the Night Court relished in the feeling of the cold air nipping at the sensitive flesh and the freedom behind it. After fifty years, he was free and it was all because of Feyre; Amarantha was dead, his powers were back, and he could finally return home.

There was one thing left to do before he could though. He could feel that Feyre was sleeping through the bond that they shared, but he tugged on that thread anyways. The High Lord heard the sound of her footsteps, turning to face the opening of the stairwell, and couldn't help but chuckle as he watched Feyre hiss and shield her eyes from the sun.

"I forgot that it's been a while for you," Rhys voiced as he tucked his wings into his body. It had been over three months since she arrived Under the Mountain, and unlike him, she hadn't had the chance to sneak outside given the circumstances.

Rhysand watched as Feyre took in the land around them: the vibrant mountains that surrounded the drab mountain that they stood on. He silently willed her to look at him and like a prayer being answered, she did. Her blue-gray eyes scanned his body, his wings, before meeting his gaze.

"What do you want?" She tried to snap, but the question was more bite than bark. He could sense the storm within her mind, but everything was moving too quickly for him to pick up anything from her unshielded thoughts.

The wind blew Feyre's scent towards him, it was as intoxicating as the first time they met. "Just to say goodbye," he answered moments later. "Before your beloved whisks you away forever."

"Not forever," Feyre responded as she wiggled her fingers at him. The deep blue ink stood out against her fair skin, the eye in the center of her palm winking at him. "Don't you get a week every month?" The bite in her tone made Rhysand wince internally, his wings the only sign that he was a little uncomfortable with her words.

With a small smile, the High Lord asked, "How could I forget?"

"Why?" Feyre asked, the question catching him a little off guard.

 _To save you_ , he wanted to say, but he had an image to uphold, so instead he shrugged, a seemingly careless movement. "Because when the legends get written, I didn't want to be remembered for standing on the sidelines. I want my future offspring to know that I was there, and that I fought against her at the end, even if I couldn't do anything useful."

Feyre blinked at his answer, looking him right in the eyes, and he continued, "Because I didn't want you to fight alone. Or die alone."

No one deserved to die alone. When the time came for him to leave this world, Rhysand could only hope that someone would deem him worthy enough to do the same for him.

"Thank you," Feyre seemed to struggle to say.

Rhys forced a grin onto his face. "I doubt you'll be saying that when I take you to the Night Court." Feyre turned away from him and looked toward the mountains surrounding them.

"Are you going to fly home?" She asked quietly.

A soft laugh escaped from Rhysand. He would have loved to fly home, he missed the feeling of the wind beneath his wings and the sight of the lands under him, but the moment the curse was broken, he could feel the impatience from his Inner Circle, restlessly awaiting his return. "Unfortunately, it would take longer than I can afford. Another day, I'll taste the skies again."

Once again, Feyre looked over his body and his wings, still tucked in behind him. "You never told me you loved the wings—or the flying," she said, her voice hoarse.

He gave another shrug. "Everything I love has always had a tendency to be taken from me. I tell very few about the wings. Or the flying."

His little sister. His mother. His city. His friends. He had lost so much. If Amarantha knew of his wings, of his love for taking flight, she would have made sure to keep him Under the Mountain, trapped. He wouldn't have survived that loss.

"How does it feel to be a High Fae?" He asked the newly Made woman before him. The change suited her well, from the strength beneath her new Fae skin to the slight point her ears now ended in. Her eyes darkened at the question and once again turned away from him.

"I'm an immortal—who has been mortal. This body…this body is different, but this" –she placed a hand over her heart— "this is still human. Maybe it always will be. But it would have been easier to live with it..." She paused. "Easier to live with what I did if my heart had changed, too. Maye I wouldn't care so much; maybe I could convince myself their deaths weren't in vain. Maybe immortality will take that away. I can't tell whether I want it to."

Rhysand stared at her back, enough time passing that she turned back to him. He could understand what she was feeling, why she would have wanted a hardened heart, but he was glad it was unchanged. "Be glad of your human heart, Feyre. Pity those who don't feel anything at all."

She just nodded, so he continued on, "Well, goodbye for now."

Being one for dramatics, Rhysand bowed at the waist, making his wings vanish using his fully replenished magic. The shadows began to beckon to him and his body went rigid. Every fiber of his being seemed to be drawn to the woman before him, taut with longing. It felt as if everything had clicked into place, as if his life had meaning after everything he had done and that meaning was standing in front of him. He locked eyes with Feyre's, knowing his violet eyes were wide with absolute shock. His nostrils flared and he breathed in her scent again. He stumbled back a step—nothing made him falter, nothing, but this…

She was his mate.

 _Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate._ His mind chanted at him. Every instinct was telling him to grab her and winnow away, but her couldn't. Tamlin had his talons so deep in her heart and no matter the situation, as long as Feyre was happy. If he took her away from Tamlin, she would hate him with every piece of herself and Rhys couldn't handle that though. He would do nothing, even if she was his mate.

He had to get out of there.

"What is—" Feyre started to say, but the High Lord had already winnowed away.

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Well, there you go. Hope you liked it. Comments, advice, anything is appreciated :)


	2. Chapter 2

Be prepared. This chapter is in first person and not third person. Hopefully, it's more interesting than the first chapter. I think I'm starting to get into the swing of writing again. So fingers crossed that you like it.

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Mate. I had a mate.

Never in my five hundred years of existence had I allowed myself to toy with the idea that I might have had a mate somewhere in the world. After everything I had done, to avenge my family's death, to protect my home and friends from Amarantha, the murdering and the torture, I didn't deserve a mate.

I definitely did not deserve someone like Feyre. Perhaps it was a good thing that she was in love with Tamlin. She deserved to live an unburdened life and if she was happy with the rutting High Lord of Spring, maybe with time, I would learn to live with it. There was a tug in the pit of my stomach and it had nothing to do with my winnowing the hell away from the mountain.

Completely unhinged, I could hardly concentrate on the fact that after fifty years, the scent of jasmine was surrounding me and I was finally home. My knees almost buckled as my mind screamed at me. _Feyre, Feyre, Feyre._ I barely even noticed as my golden-haired cousin crashed into me.

"Rhys," she said in a breathless sigh. Her eyes scanned over my body to check for any injuries, I assumed. A second passed before she punched me in the arm, hard, apparently deeming me to be in good enough condition to do so. "I am going to pummel you."

I only stared at her, desperation probably clear on my face. "She's my mate."

There were very few moments that I could remember that had left Morrigan speechless, yet here she was, gaping at me like a fish that had been pulled out of the water. To her defense, I wasn't faring any better. Running a hand through my hair, I loosed a breath as Mor collected herself.

"What did you say?"

"I found my mate," I said in a whisper. "And she's in love with someone else. She broke Amarantha's curse, wrecking herself to do so, and she did it all for…for Tamlin."

"Come here, Rhys," Mor said quietly, pulling me to one of the small alcoves that lined the hallway and gently shoved me towards one of the plush chairs before gracefully settling down in the other. "Okay, now talk."

A light breeze rustled the gossamer curtains and I looked out between the pillars at the familiar mountains, mountains that I hadn't seen in decades. Running my fingers over the upholstery that I sat on, I turned back to Mor.

Fifty years. I had not seen Mor in half a decade so I just looked at her. She was unchanged, except she looked older, but it was not because fifty years had passed.

 _That is your fault too_ , a little voice in my head said.

In order to protect my court, my family, everything left that I loved, I had chained Mor and the rest of my Inner Circle to the shield that I threw around Velaris before the curse was fully in effect. To protect our city, they had to stay safe within the Night Court. I knew that they, Mor, Amren, Cassian, and Azriel, would have fought tooth and nail to save me. They would have died for me and no matter how angry they were at my decisions, I couldn't let that happen.

Everything spilled out before I even made the decision to explain things to Mor. I was so unhinged, my words became more and more frantic as I told her about the things Amarantha commanded me to do, my dreams of a human girl, meeting Feyre on Calanmai, and my trips to the Spring Court.

By the time I got to talking about the trials Under the Mountain, about the bargain, about Feyre's death, I don't think my cousin was breathing. She was looking at me with wide eyes, once again speechless. When I was finished, I let out a shaky breath, combing my fingers through my hair.

A few seconds passed. "Go get her," Mor said finally. "I'll even hold Tamlin down while you whisk Feyre away. I could use a new female friend. As much as I enjoy Amren's presence, Amren is Amren."

I couldn't help but let out a chuckle, but sobered quickly. "I can't do that, Mor."

"Why the hell not?"

"She'd hate me, Mor. If I steal her away, she will spend the rest of eternity detesting me and I think that would destroy me more than having her love another male," I started. "It took three months for her to even look at me like I was somewhat of a decent person. As long as she's alive, as long as she's happy, I will learn to live with it."

When I had led Feyre to find me after Amarantha had been defeated, she had looked so sad and tired, but she looked at me like I was worth something. That look on her face, something other than hate or disgust, it meant everything. I had almost, _almost_ , let her out of the bargain right then and there, but I had been selfish and couldn't.

"That is bullshit, Rhysand," Mor said through gritted teeth. "You're telling me that you're going to live with the fact that your mate lives in an enemy court, loving its High Lord, sharing his b—"

"Mor," I cut her off so quietly that I was unsure whether she even heard me. "Please. Just please… I don't want to talk about this anymore." I let my head fall into my hands.

I heard her huff in response before soft footsteps approached me; she perched on the armrest of my chair before wrapping her arms around my shoulders. Lifting my head, I placed my hand on her forearm, took a deep breath, and thanked my cousin for her understanding.

"On a scale of one to someone stealing jewelry from Amren, how mad is everyone?" I asked Mor.

"At the beginning, we were all pissed at you for leaving us behind, for chaining us to Velaris, but we understood why you did it," Mor started to answer. "Over the years, I think the anger faded and the fact that we might never see you again hit us. When that happened, we decided that we wouldn't let your decision be in vain."

"Good," was all I said in response.

"Let's go home, Rhys," Mor replied quietly, standing and pulling him to his feet. "I told the others to stay in Velaris, but they're waiting for us."

"I think I'm going to stay here tonight." Seeing Mor was one thing, but facing the rest of his Inner Circle, he needed some time to prepare himself for that reunion. His brothers in arms and his Second in command had waited fifty years, they would have to wait a little bit longer. "Alone."

More nodded in understanding. She placed a comforting hand on my bicep before she winnowed back to Velaris.

Ҩ

I jolted awake in the middle of the night, the sheets around me damp with sweat and shredded under the talons that had clawed their way out. Darkness swirled around me, black and impenetrable. It took a huge amount of effort to rein it all in.

The nightmare would be one that would haunt me endlessly. Just thinking about it had my control on the darkness slipping. The sound of Feyre's neck snapping and the light leaving her eyes, her _dying_ , was the worst nightmare I had ever experienced.

My heart was almost beating out of my chest and though I knew she was alive, I had to make sure. I let my mind slip along the bond that we shared. She was sleeping, relatively calmly it seemed and I let out a relieved breath.

There was no way sleep would find me again, so I took a little time to prepare for my return to the Court of Dreams and the reunion with the last three members of my Inner Circle.

When the sun found its way out between mountain peaks, I winnowed to Velaris before unfurling my wings, flying up to the House of Wind. Landing on one of the balconies, I walked through the set of open glass doors into the dining room where my Inner Circle were eating their breakfast and smiled at the sight.

Azriel and Cassian seemed to be on the brink of tossing food at each other, arguing about something or another. Amren was sitting across from them, picking at her nails with the point of a dagger and smirking at the pair of Illyrian warriors like she knew something they didn't and she undeniably did. Mor was just laughing out right.

Everything seemed so normal, they had survived without me and I was glad, even as my heart ached at the sight.

Sliding a smirk onto my face, I finally spoke. "You four are a sad excuse of an Inner Circle if you can't even detect the arrival of your favorite High Lord."

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Comments, reviews, advice, and the like are appreciated! Let me know if you prefer first person or third person for the coming chapters. I'll be sticking to whatever is the more popular choice (if anyone actually has a say). Until next time!


	3. Chapter 3

Here we go. Chapter three. Hope you like it.

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Cassian and Azriel looked completely flabbergasted at my sudden appearance in the House of Wind. Thanks to the glamour I put in place, my arrival had gone undetected. Even Amren looked the teensiest bit surprised and I couldn't remember the last time that had happened.

My Inner Circle rose from their seats in unison, each of them crossing their right arms to rest their hands over their hearts and bowed. It was a gesture full of respect and loyalty, one they were offering to me even after everything I had done. I had done deplorable things. I had abandoned them. I had become Amarantha's whore. My heart ached and I smiled at them.

"So dramatic, all of you," I said with a genuine laugh.

It was Cassian who spoke first. "We did learn from the best."

I hugged each member of my Inner Circle before we settled back down at the table, me in the seat I sat in fifty years ago across from Azriel. Being seated there, seeing that each and every one of them was safe, happy even, it made my half century Under the Mountain all worthwhile. I would gladly do it all over again if it meant protecting the four most important people in my life.

The only thing missing as Feyre. My mate.

"It's good to have you back, Rhysand," Azriel said quietly, his hazel eyes flashing with mirth, light shadows swirling around him.

"It's good to be back," I said in answer.

"I'll drink to that!" Mor exclaimed, a glass of wine appearing in her hand as four other appeared on the table along with a full bottle of wine.

"Morrigan, don't you think it's a bit early to celebrate?" the shadowsinger asked the blonde spitball that was my cousin.

With an exaggerated eye roll, Mor downed the glass before reaching to refill it. "For Rhys' return, I think not! Now drink," she commanded. Not even Azriel turned her down, not that he ever could.

Ҩ

By the time the sun was setting, the five of us were drunk, though that may have been an understatement. We had taken the festivities into one of the more comfortable rooms in the House of Wind, wine being passed around as we shared happenings of the last fifty years.

Cassian stood abruptly from his relaxed position and declared that it was time for dinner. It was decided that they would reconvene in ten minutes. I went to my rooms, sloppily running my fingers over the walls then the silky sheets on the bed, and changed into fresh clothes. Turning to the mirror, I ran a hand through my dark hair, not liking how the paleness of my skin looked in contrast. I brushed nonexistent lint from my black tunic and pants before rejoining with my Inner Circle.

Walking through Velaris, having my people greet me with smiles, welcoming me back, sobered me up very quickly. Mor was walking arm in arm with Azriel, a soft smile on his usually stoic face. Cassian, in his drunken state, was merrily sauntering behind them, his Siphons gleaming thanks to the light coming from various shop windows.

Amren walked beside me at the back of our group, a necklace housing a giant emerald sitting below the hollow of her throat. I shoved my hands into my pockets and breathed in the smell of Velaris, the ever present scent of the sea, mixed with jasmine, and foods wafting from all directions.

"Thank you, Rhysand," Amren said quietly, her black hair shifting slightly as she walked.

"For what?" I asked, a little confused. I could feel her silver eyes move toward me, but I still stared at Cass' wings, currently tucked into his body.

"For all that you had to sacrifice to save us."

There was nothing I could say in response, but I knew Amren wasn't expecting a reply. I just turned to her and nodded, glad that she was a creature of few words. We arrived at the restaurant, the green and gold unchanged in the last five decades, and took up the table that had always belonged to my court.

The restaurant owner appeared before me, the smile bright against her lovely brown skin. "High Lord, welcome back!" My smile appeared on its own accord as she kissed my cheek, moving to do the same for each of my Inner Circle, only breaking the cycle to bow to Amren.

It was two hours of eating endlessly, food and wine reappearing on the table just as quickly as it had gone. By the time we had all had our fill, I was almost tempted to have Cassian roll me back home.

"Was everything to your liking?" the owner asked.

"Excellent as ever," I said in response. "Thank you."

"For you, High Lord, anytime." She had adamantly refused my money, but I left it all on the table as we left. Mor deciding for the group that it was long overdue for a trip to Rita's down the street for dancing. I said goodbye to Amren and she snuck away to her own apartment, never being a fan of the crowded environment of the club.

My cousin dragged Azriel and me by the hand to the dance floor while Cassian went to get us drinks that were probably unnecessary. It was weird being back at Rita's. I had never really been into the dancing scene, usually more content to watch Cassian flirt with anything in a dress and Mor try to loosen Az up.

I knocked back the drink that Cassian handed me and did what I hadn't done in decades. I let go. Mor laughed giddily as we danced, the place getting warmer by the second.

Just as a song ended, I heard something through my bond with Feyre that made my stomach drop. I could hear her moan the High Lord of Spring Court's name. The walls to her mind wide open, I could see what she saw. Tamlin's yellow hair was damp with sweat as he moved atop Feyre's body—

I shoved the image out of my head, but it was ingrained in my mind. Another male was touching my mate, claiming her, and there was nothing I could fucking do about it without making Feyre hate me. I let out a noise somewhat between a roar and a groad, startling some nearby Fae, before storming towards the bar.

Downing three shots of liquor, I screwed my eyes shut, using my fingers to pinch the bridge of my nose. I could sense someone lean against the bar next to me, the vanilla and rose scent of her cloying and overwhelming.

"High Lord," a golden-haired, blue-eyed High Fae purred at me as I lazily opened my eyes. "I'm so pleased that you've graced us with your presence tonight."

It was a bit painful to plaster a lazy smile on my face. "A night out was much needed."

"How about I make your night a little more interesting?" She ran a finger down my chest as I tried not to cringe, purposefully swaying her hips and puffing out her chest as she stepped in closer to me. I took a step away.

 _Help me. Help me. Help me._ I silently sent to the members of my Inner Circle. I was not in the mood to deal with flirty, mostly sloshed females or males.

The High Fae before me continued on, "I've always been _very_ curious about your—"

"Rhys!" I sighed in relief as Cassian stumbled over, though I could tell he was mostly faking it for the female's benefit. "I think it's time to go ho-ome!"

"I think so too, bud," I gave him a clap on the back and shot a halfhearted look of regret to the female who actually pouted.

When we got outside, I told Cassian that he could go back in, but I was going to head back to the house above the Court of Nightmares, suddenly exhausted. He nodded, knowing it wasn't the time to push and watched me leave.

I winnowed out of Velaris, the sight of Tamlin on my mate still chafing my mind. I had no idea how I was going to survive the images for gods knew how long considering Feyre had no idea how to put her mental walls up. I was destined for this torture, but then again, I probably deserved it for everything I had done Under the Mountain.

After a scalding bath, I lay in my bed, unable to fall asleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Tamlin's rutting face above my mate's, an animalistic look in his eyes. My black talons threatened to make an appearance, but I painfully willed them away. It was going to be a long night.

It wasn't until hours later that I began to doze off, only to jolt awake, sprint to the adjoining bathing room, and dry heave into the toilet. The nightmare had been an endless line of ash daggers going through the hearts of Fae, blood everywhere. It was Feyre's nightmare and it was Feyre who was puking her guts out, my nausea a side effect of the bond.

What pissed me off the most was the she was feeling absolutely alone, the High Lord of Spring still asleep. There was no way he slept through it all, so he was most likely completely ignoring the fact that his love was falling in the next room. It disgusted me.

I was half tempted to winnow to the Spring Court and punch him in the gut.

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Fair warning, I thrive off of reviews/follows/just love in general. I also love advice on my writing if you have any complaints/things you want to see/things you don't. You get the gist of it.

So, please, love me. I'm needy :)


	4. Chapter 4

This chapter is the shortest so far...but after this chapter, I'll be getting more into SJM's story line. I'll still try to add some scenes when Feysand is apart, so we'll see how that goes.

Not going to lie, this chapter is also slightly slow, but I promise, promise, promise that things will be more interesting from here on out. Please don't let this chapter stop you from continuing this story.

Happy reading!

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After that first night, I threw myself into research and planning for the war against Hybern that would inevitably occur. My spymaster had been sending spies anywhere he could get them, collecting any information he could while Cassian was preparing our armies. It had been three months of nonstop preparation for what was coming. Three months of trying to shut out everything that Feyre had sent down the bond unwittingly.

I jolted up from my bed, not from my own nightmares on most nights, but from Feyre's. Though I couldn't sense every part of my mate's life, I got enough to piece things together. There were enough times that Feyre felt trapped and smothered that I wanted to break her from the Spring Court, but I knew I couldn't. Not without starting an unnecessary war and not without her hating my guts.

When Tamlin had proposed two months ago, it had been during a meeting where Cassian was discussing the plans we had made with his Night Court lieutenants. I was sitting at the head of the table, my feet perched on the wood as Cassian did his thing. Tamlin's voice was grating in my ears as he expressed his love for Feyre, I wanted to vomit. I dropped my feet to the floor, my hands gripping the arm rests of my chair, wood splintering under my touch.

 _She's happy. She's happy. She's happy,_ I chanted to myself over and over again.

"High Lord?" Cassian asked, the voice he used was that of a loyal army commander, but I could see the worry in his face that ran deeper than that. His hazel eyes flicking to the talons that had emerged and were digging into the wood of my chair. I took a deep breath and willed the dark nails away. "Everything is set, armies at the ready."

"Good, you're dismissed," I said, my voice tight. Cassian's lieutenants rose and bowed before exiting the war room. We had had the same conversation with the Illyrian army just an hour before.

Cassian appeared next to me, placing a firm hand on my shoulder. "You alright, Rhys?"

I looked up at my brother and shrugged. "I'll survive, let's get going. I hate this place." Meeting in the war room meant traveling to the Court of Nightmares and being in the Hewn City meant portraying the swaggering High Lord that everyone in Prythian feared. Though it felt good to unleash the hold on my magic, I was ready to get out.

Since then, it had been two months of random snippets of absurd dresses and talks of wedding decorations. Feyre hated most of it, but played the part of complacent fiancée as Ianthe made decision after decision. It made me grind my teeth to see how the Spring Court had oppressed her, how she went from such a spirited beauty, to a shell destined to be Tamlin's trophy.

Sitting in my office in the House of Mist on the day of my mate's wedding, I decided I needed a drink or however many it took for me to get rip-roaring drunk. I shoved out of my seat and went to the House of Wind, storming through the house in search of Cas.

I was about to pound on his door when a wave of overwhelming anguish washed over me, sent down through the bond that I shared with Feyre. The emotion opened up a window that allowed me to see everything that was going on through my mate's eyes.

Past a sea of hundreds of faceless people, Feyre was looking toward the High Lord of the Spring Court, dressed in an ostentatious outfit of green and gold. Her attention turned back to the path set before her that was lined with white and red rose petals, ones that she had specifically told Ianthe she didn't want.

I could feel the grip on her sanity was cracking as she walked toward Tamlin and through the path of red rose petals that reminded her of blood. Blood that she had spilled to save the male before her, blood of the Fae she had killed, I realized. My heart broke for her, at the torment she felt.

The grouping of petals made her stop in her tracks and I watched through her eyes as Tamlin reached a hand toward her. The brows on his stupid rutting face narrowing, trying to push her towards him. Her heartbeat might as well have been my own, beating too fast. Beating not in anticipation and excitement, but fear. Her emotions ran through my body: guilt, humiliation, terror. Under the sun, everything was too hot, too stifling. She couldn't breathe, her thoughts were moving as quickly as her heart.

 _I'm unfit to be clothes in whites when my hands were so filthy._

 _I was a murderer and a liar._

 _Bound to Tamlin forever._

 _My broken and weary soul._

The thoughts that ran through Feyre's mind made me want to hold her to me, comfort her in any means possible. It hurt like nothing else seeing my mate feel the way she did and I didn't know how to fix it, how to hold her together. There was nothing I could do to help.

Tamlin called out to her and another part of her cracked. She was so close to falling apart.

 _Help me, help me, help me,_ she begged. Her voice loud and clear in my mind. There was something I could do to help her. I could keep her from binding herself to Tamlin, to someone who would ignore the fact that she was falling apart right in front of his face. _Save me—please, save me. Get me out. End this._ Moving quicker than I ever thought possible, even for me, I magicked into something more appropriate for a wedding and prepared myself for the role I would need to step into.

I winnowed into the Spring Court, appearing on the rose petal lined path that had sent Feyre into a panic. The face of the High Lord of the Night Court that everyone pictured me as was in place, wings glamoured. Being my dramatic self, I had unleashed a little more magic than strictly necessary. A crack of thunder signaled my arrival to the hundreds of people that had come to witness their High Lord's marriage. I let my darkness seep from me like tendrils of smoke caught in the wind. Screaming in terror, most guests vanished in a matter of seconds and I smirked.

Feyre turned to me in that ridiculous cake dress of hers and I almost forgot that I had a role to play.

She had lost so much weight. She was too thin, too skinny. Even under the makeup, I could tell that her skin has lost the glow that was present when she had been remade as High Fae. How had Tamlin not seen that change? I was so very tempted to mist him right then and there, but I needed to get Feyre out.

I quickly looked over her once again, swallowed by the monstrosity of a dress Ianthe had undoubtedly chosen. The capped sleeves were practically swallowing her head and part of me wanted to set the whole thing on fire.

Clearing my head for the encounter about to come, I straightened the lapels on my jacket and looked Feyre in the eyes.

"Hello, Feyre darling," I purred.

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As always, reviews, advice, follows, favorites, and all other love is appreciated. Love fuels my writing. The next chapter should be up within the week, if not this weekend.

Au revoir! See you next time.


	5. Chapter 5

It's been a while. In all honesty, I was very close to stopping this Rhys POV because I just wasn't feeling it, but I have urges to write and writing existing things is much easier than original works.

Here goes...

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Letting some of my darkness swirl around me, I looked towards Tamlin with a cock of my head. He, Lucien, and their sentries drawing their swords. They were hesitating, thoughts of how they would get Feyre away from me without hurting her running through their minds.

I lifted my hand and they all went still, knowing that things would end very badly if they made one wrong move against me. From the corner of my eye, I could see Ianthe in dark blue robes backing away. I almost laughed and was glad that she had finally learned her lesson. She had messed with the wrong High Lord, though now it looked like she had her power-hungry claws in Tamlin.

"What a pretty little wedding," I said while stuffing my hands into my pockets. No one dared move their swords an inch. I could sense people scrambling to get away.

In all honestly, the wedding was horrendous, all flowery and bright and so distinctly _Spring_. It was abhorrent. I turned to look at Feyre who looked ridiculous in the puffy white dress she was wearing, Ianthe's doing, no doubt. The High Priestess had also put silk gloves on Feyre to cover the evidence of my bargain with Feyre. I clicked my tongue at the sight.

Tamlin stalked towards me with no grace whatsoever, his claws loosed. No control either. "Get the hell out," he growled at me.

There were so many ways I could mess with him, but that wasn't my purpose today. Not completely at least. Once again, I clicked my tongue. "Oh, I don't think so. Not when I need to call in my bargain with Feyre darling," I offered him a smirk.

I could sense that my mate was already refusing in her mind, nauseous at the thought, but I knew that getting away from the Spring Court was what she needed. Even if she didn't think so. Her panic while walking down the aisle was so bad that she had begged for someone to save her. That someone just happened to be me.

Though my face showed nothing aside from the typical High Lord of the Night Court arrogance that everyone expected, my temper was fraying. It was a combination of the state that Feyre was in, my history with Tamlin, and the fact that the scent of roses was making my nose so godsdamned itchy.

"You try to break the bargain, and you know what will happen," I went on. Typically, a broken Night Court bargain meant death, but I had left that part out when I made the deal with Feyre Under the Mountain, but Tamlin didn't have to know that. I looked at the guests scrambling over one another and chuckled. It was a sight to see. I jerked my chin toward Feyre, knowing I still had a role to play. "I gave you three months of freedom. You could at least look happy to see me."

She was shaking and I gave her a look of distaste. Spectators were already wondering what the look meant, but no one guessed that it was because I was extremely unhappy with the fact that she looked nothing like the female I had left three months ago. This Feyre had no spark in her eyes and she had lost so much weight. It couldn't have been healthy.

"I'll be taking her now," I told Tamlin as I returned my face to neutrality. I had to mentally tell myself to keep my mask on, not to think about the fact that in a matter of seconds, Feyre would be with me in my court.

"Don't you dare," Tamlin snarled at me, his canines showing. I almost snorted in his face. He reminded me of a rabid dog.

"Was I interrupting?" I asked haughtily. "I thought it was over." I sent Feyre a smile dripping with venom to add to the show. "At least, Feyre seemed to think so."

"Let us finish the ceremony—" Tamlin started. _Yeah, right_ , I mentally said. I was going to keep Feyre from becoming the Lady of the Spring Court for as long as possible. I had convinced myself that she was happy and that I wouldn't interfere with that, but that was before she had begged to be saved from being tied to Tamlin forever.

I looked past his shoulder at the empty alter and smirked. Ianthe was long gone, no doubt remembering the pain I had inflicted upon her long ago. "Your High Priestess seems to think it's over, too."

Tamlin looked surprised that Ianthe had gone. I watched as his claws retracted. I smirked inwardly knowing he was planning on bargaining with me. It was a bit funny. "Rhysand—" he started, but I didn't feel like dealing with him any longer.

"I'm in no mood to bargain," I told him truthfully, "even though I could work it to my advantage, I'm sure." My temper was still brewing under my skin and if I had to look at Tamlin any longer, I would use the fact that he had let Feyre waste away as a reason to snap his neck.

I slid my hand over Feyre's elbow, relishing in the fact that I was touching her, not even caring that she jolted at my touch. "Let's go."

"Tamlin," she breathed out, unmoving. Part of me did feel bad that I was calling in on our bargain, but she knew it was going to happen sooner or later. I had given her three months of freedom.

Spring's High Lord took a single step, his face yellowish and his gaze focused on me. "Name your price."

I almost scoffed in his face. There was nothing Tamlin could offer me in exchange for the week that I would already get with my mate. He could have offered me every inch of his lands and all of the jewels he had, but it would have been futile.

"Don't bother," I crooned at him as I linked arms with Feyre. I could tell that my touch was absolutely unbearable, but she would have to deal with it. Maybe one day in the future, she would look at me differently, like she did that day Under the Mountain. Today just wasn't that day though.

She was scared of what she would see in the Night Court, the depravity and torture and death. Oh, what a surprise she was in for. Sure, the Court of Nightmares was what every other court based their stories on, but it was only a tiny fraction of my court. Maybe one day, I'd be able to show Feyre the other parts, but until she was out of Tamlin's grasp, that wouldn't happen.

"Tamlin, please."

"Such dramatics," I said with a tug, puller her closer to my body.

Tamlin was snarling again. "If you hurt her—"

"I know, I know. I'll return her in a week," I drawled. The scent of roses was driving me nuts. A small part of me was a bit surprised that he had given in so quickly. Even the Lucien looked furious at his High Lord, face white with shock. Weak, Tamlin was weak, but it worked out well enough for me.

The arm I had on Feyre's elbow slid around to gently wrap around her slim waist, pressing her even closer to my side. "Hold on," I whispered into her ear.

I winnowed from the Spring Court, relishing in the darkness that surrounded us. Feyre clung to me, even though she hated herself for doing so, hated me. We landed in the house above the Court of Nightmares, the familiar scent of jasmine tickling my nose. Home, sweet home.

It was night, the stars shining through the open spaces between marble pillars. Feyre was practically gaping at the sight and part of me was purring at the fact that, despite herself, she liked what she was seeing. She enjoyed the night sky and the openness of my court.

"Welcome to the Night Court," was all I could say.

I actually couldn't believe that my mate was standing before me, in my court. She still looked absolutely ridiculous in her wedding dress, but she was here.

Standing against one of the marble pillars, I watched as her gray-blue eyes wandered around the room as she took in her surroundings. I didn't even have to breach her mind to know what she was thinking. The emotions from today had left her walls wide open. She wondered why there was no screaming or shouts or pleas.

"This is my private residence," I casually let out. She looked at me, mentally making comments about my newly tanned skin and wondering where my wings were. I smirked at her thoughts.

"How _dare_ you—" Feyre started to say, that familiar look of disdain on her face.

I snorted. "I certainly missed _that_ look on your face." It was the partial truth, that look was what started it all. I stalked towards her, the mask of the High Lord on my face. It had been a long day, my temper slipping ever so slightly. "You're welcome, you know."

"For what?"

There was a foot of space between Feyre and me before I stopped, slipping my hands into my pockets. Morrigan had once said it was the only tear in my High Lord mask, but only my Inner Circle knew my tell. "For saving you when asked."

She tensed, ready to argue that she didn't want to be saved. I saved her having to do so by looking down to her left arm. The tattoo that was a result of our bargain, the one that matched the dark swirls on my own skin, was covered by silk gloves.

The sight irked me and I gripped her arm with a snarl, ripping the gloves off. She flinched at my action and took a step back, but I didn't yield, getting rid of the other glove. "I heard you begging someone, _anyone_ , to rescue you, to get you out. I heard you say _no_."

I wouldn't have breached Spring Court territory otherwise. If Feyre hadn't begged for someone to save her, if she hadn't have said _no_ so loudly to the male before her, I wouldn't have went to her. But she did, I saved her, I saved my mate. Even though she didn't think she wanted to be saved at the present moment, hopefully one day she would think otherwise.

"I didn't say anything."

Resisting the urge to run my thumb over her soft skin, I turned her hand in mine and the tattooed eye on her palm stared back at me. I tapped the center twice. "I heard it loud and clear."

She pulled her hand from me. "Take me back. _Now._ I didn't want to be stolen away."

I shrugged at her words. I could have easily brought up the bargain, but didn't. "What better time to take you here? Maybe Tamlin didn't notice you were about to reject him in front of his entire court—maybe you can now simply blame it on me."

"You're a bastard." I had been called much worse. "You made it clear enough that I had…reservations." There was temptation to inform her that one shouldn't have any reservations about marriage.

"Such gratitude, as always."

"What do you want from me?"

My temper was slowly starting to fray. " _Want?_ I want you to say thank you, first of all. Then I want you to take off that hideous dress. You look…" —like a demure cupcake. The thought of Feyre becoming Tamlin's trophy…my mouth became a cruel line on its own accord. "You look exactly like the doe-eyed damsel he and that simpering priestess want you to be."

Feyre wasn't meant to become a wife, planning parties and rearing stupid Spring Court babies, she was meant for much more than that. Everyone that had watched the trials Under the Mountain would know that. Tamlin should have seen the power that swam beneath her skin, even her human skin, but he had always had a hard head.

"You don't know anything about me. Or us."

I smiled at her knowingly. I knew much more than she thought I did. "Does Tamlin? Does he ever ask you why you hurl your guts up every night, or why you can't go into certain rooms or see certain colors?"

Her nightmares were my own and every time I she walked into rooms that she felt trapped in or saw the color red, I could feel the terror and guilt consume her. Tamlin had failed to see what was happening with Feyre, failed to hold her hair as she emptied her stomach nightly, and he was either completely blind or an absolute moron.

"Get the hell out of my head."

"Likewise." I stepped away from her, not completely sure I could hold onto my sanity much longer as her scent lingered around me. She smelled of crisp mountain air, pine, and something distinctly Feyre. "You think I enjoy being awoken every night by visions of you puking? You send everything right down the bond, and I don't appreciate having a front-row seat when I'm trying to sleep."

"Prick." I chuckled. Such a lovely meeting we were having.

"As for what else I want from you…" I motioned to the house. "I'll tell you tomorrow at breakfast. For now, clean yourself up. Rest." Letting my gaze fall back to the monstrosity of her wedding dress and them up to her hair, my temper flared again. The urge to return to the Spring Court and punch Tamlin and possibly Ianthe was overwhelming. "Take the stairs on the right, one level down. Your room is the first door."

"Not a dungeon cell?" It was a serious question and part of me was hurt at the insinuation, but Tamlin had no doubt told Feyre the worst of my court, meaning the Court of Nightmares. He knew nothing of anything else.

I turned with a brow lifted. "You are not a prisoner, Feyre. You made a bargain, and I am calling it in. You will be my guest here, with the privileges of a member of my house hold. None of my subjects are going to touch you, hurt you, or so much as think ill of you here." None of my subjects would even know of Feyre's presence.

"And where might those subjects be?"

There was an air of fear around her. I told her that my subjects lived in the mountain below us and that they were forbidden from entering my home and that Amarantha's court was based off what was below our feet.

Fear shifted to terror when she asked if I would take her there and my heart cracked at the sight. Every fiber of my being longed to pull her into my arms to comfort her.

"I'm not." Some of her terror dissipated. "This is my home, and the one beneath it is my…occupation, as you mortals call it. I do not like for the two to overlap very often."

If it weren't beneficial for the Court of Nightmares to exist, I would have destroyed it, but being feared by all other courts didn't hurt.

"'You mortals'?" Feyre questioned with raised brows.

"Should I consider you something different?" There was uncertainty to whether Feyre had accepted her newfound heritage.

"And the other denizens of your court?"

"Scattered throughout, dwelling as they wish. Just as _you_ are now free to roam where you wish."

"I wish to roam home."

I laughed and walked down the hall towards one of the open areas, the stars calling my name. "I'm willing to accept your thanks at any time, you know," I said to her with a hint of my signature cockiness in my voice.

Apparently it wasn't the right thing to say because not a heartbeat later, I was hit in the back of the head. Hard. And it had hurt. _What the hell?_

Whirling back to face her while using one of my hands to touch the spot where I had hit, I looked at her with wide eyes. She had thrown a slipper at my head. A godsdamned slipper. I didn't even realize it until it had hit me upside the head, literally.

The matching slipper was in her hand, ready to be thrown. The slipper that had bounced off my head had broken the hold I had on my temper. " _I dare you_ ," I said with a bit of anger.

Silk in the form of footwear came flying at my face, but I was prepared this time. I grabbed it just before it hit my face. The force Feyre used to throw the slipper made my hand sting. _Odd._ I hissed at the fact that she had thrown yet another thing at my head and met her eyes as I dissolved the shoe into a pile of glittering black dust.

I looked her over.

"Interesting," I murmured before continuing on my way towards the open air, resting my elbows on the railing. She was extremely strong, even for a Fae.

The sound of bare feet against the marble informed me that Feyre had decided to take her leave. As the quiet footsteps reached the top of the stairs, I let out a mix between a sigh and a groan. This day had been exhausting.

"So, _that_ went well," Mor said from besides me. I let my head drop into my hands and snarled at my cousin. She had the audacity to pat me on the shoulder. "You used to be so good at the whole charm thing, you've lost your touch."

I lifted my head to look at her, suddenly very tired. Mor's brown eyes softened and a tumbler of amber liquid appeared in each of her hands. Gratefully taking one, I knocked it back in a single gulp, the burn of alcohol a welcome feeling.

"It will work out with time, Rhysand," Mor uttered. I only nodded. "Get some sleep, cousin."

Mor left me alone with a lingering look and another touch of my shoulder. I sighed and looked up at the stars one last time before setting off to find Cassian. It was still early and I needed a drinking buddy.

Ҩ

It had been a very, very long night. Feyre had begun sobbing, shuddering and gasping sobs that tugged at my heart shortly after I found my brother. When she had finally fallen asleep, I was fairly drunk. Cassian and I found our way home, but I knew I was too on edge from Feyre's crying to fall asleep. Instead, I took to the skies.

When the sun started rising, I returned to my residence above the Court of Nightmares and sat down to breakfast. I sent Nuala and Cerridwen to rouse Feyre, hoping familiar faces would soften her up a little. After my third cup of tea and second pastry, I got petty and tugged on the bond until I heard her footsteps in the hallway.

I continued looking out at the clear blue sky. "I'm not a dog to be summoned," she greeted me and I slowly looked over my shoulder, not letting my anxiousness show.

Not bothering to hide my gaze, I looked her up and down. She looked stunning in typical Night Court fashion, the peach color complementing her skin tone. Scanning her frame again, I frowned. She has lost so much weight in the past three months. Too skinny, she was too skinny.

"I didn't want you to get lost," I answered, no hint of amusement in my tone. Tamlin was a blind imbecile who deserved to be tossed out the window I had previously been looking out of.

Feyre's gray-blue eyes eyed the silver teapot on table almost desperately. "I thought it'd always be dark here."

"We're one of the three Solar Courts," I started, motioning her to sit with a careless, but graceful motion of my wrist. "Our nights are far more beautiful, and our sunsets and dawns are exquisite, but we do adhere to the laws of nature." As much as I adored the night, my skin did hunger for the occasional ray of sunshine.

Sliding to the chair opposite me, she asked, "And do the other courts choose not to?"

I explained how the courts worked, how each High Lord's magic was connected to their land. Solar Courts were symbolic of nature, therefore the sun set and rose every day. Even a High Lord could not freeze the sun. Though in the Seasonal Courts, magic could be used to keep a season eternal. "Tea?" A small dip of her chin was all I received in answer.

"But you will find that our nights are more spectacular—so spectacular that some in my territory even awaken at sunset and go to bed at dawn, just to live under the starlight," I explained as I poured her a cup of tea.

Maybe one day, I would be to share the night sky with her. Maybe one day, I'd even be able to show her Velaris. Maybe one day, she'd be freed of the leash that Tamlin held, but until then, Velaris was off limits. There was no way I would reveal my true home to Feyre when I knew Tamlin would be waiting for Feyre's return in order to question her about my court.

"Why is it so warm in here, when winter is in full blast out there?" she asked after pouring some milk into her tea.

"Magic." I almost laughed. I don't think anyone enjoyed living in frigid air, but it was such an innocent question. After centuries, I still wondered why my predecessors on their decision to build such an open palace in the mountains where the weather was never really more than warm. It was one of my homes though and I never felt the need to change it.

Even more so after returning from Under the Mountain.

I watched as Feyre sipped at her tea and then proceeded to cautiously add some fruit to her plate. At least she was eating. "You've lost weight." And the fact still bothered me.

She violently forked a piece of fruit. "You're prone to diffing through my head whenever you please, I don't see why you're surprised by it."

Continuing to stare at her, I let my High Lord smile grace my lips. The bond between us was both a blessing and a curse. It allowed me to make sure Feyre was…okay, but it also meant I saw things that I really, really didn't need to see.

The bond we shared was a bridge between us. Since Feyre was untrained in shielding her thoughts, it was quite easy to stroll through her mind, especially when her emotions were particularly strong. Sometimes I could hear her thoughts, sometimes I didn't. I tried to give Feyre her privacy, not that she would sense my presence in the first place, but sometimes I had no choice.

"And how often do you just rifle through my mind when my shields are down?" she questioned with a scowl. I watched as the grip on her fork tightened.

My face turned serious. "When I can't tell if your nightmares are real threats or imagined. When you're about to be married and you silently beg anyone to help you. Only when you drop your mental shields and unknowingly blast those things down the bridge. And to answer your question before you ask, yes. Even with your shields up, I could get through them if I wished. You could train, though—learn how to shield against someone like me, even with the bond bridging out minds and my own abilities."

The first time that Tamlin had been gone at night and left Feyre alone, she had had a nightmare of a faceless woman tossing her about and preparing to snap her neck. I had almost winnowed to the Spring Court without an inch of clothing before realizing that she was having a nightmare. I hadn't gone back to sleep after that.

"What do you want with me? You said you'd tell me here. So tell me." Feyre demanded.

I leaned back, crossing my arms across my chest, practically relishing at her attempt to hide her admiring of the muscles under my clothes. "For this week?" I want you to learn how to read."

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And there it is.

As always, reviews, comments, advice, and love are welcome.

Until next time!


	6. Chapter 6

Hello! Long time no see. I'm sorry *hides* I'm so on and off about this story. There are times where I'm like "LET'S DO THIS!" and there are other's where I'm like "This is mediocre at best, there are so many other Rhys POVs." It's a dilemma. But here I am, sporadic as always.

Hope you like it. Apologies for any grammatical errors because although I do try and edit, I always seem to miss things...

Voila!

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Ferye was irked at my words. Though she was trying to hide her annoyance, I could see her knuckles whitening as she gripped the fork in her hand. To play the role of Tamlin's ever obedient wife, she would need to learn to read and write in order to maintain her household. I almost shuddered at the thought.

I had my own reasons for wanting Feyre to learn.

I watched as her grip tightened and the fork became a tangled silver mess. She was stronger than the average High Fae. I looked over her thin frame. She had kernels of power from all seven of the High Lords of Prythian and part of me wondered if those kernels had transferred more than just a second chance at life into the woman before me. I voiced my thoughts.

"Nothing else _transferred_ to me," she answered vehemently. There was something she was holding back, but I wouldn't pry…yet.

"It'd just be rather…interesting," I said back with a smirk. If somehow, she had obtained the skills of the individual High Lords, she would be one of the most powerful beings in the world. Deep down, a part of me was extremely gratified at the idea. This was my mate. My equal in every way. I was the most powerful High Lord in history, if Feyre had even half that power, we'd be an unstoppable pair.

"It didn't, and I'm not going to learn to read or shield with you."

"Why? From spite? I thought you and I got past that Under the Mountain." I regretted the words the second they spilled from my lips.

"Don't get me started on what you did to me Under the Mountain."

I went completely still at her words. Feyre had went through hell to get Tamlin back, to free his people from the curse. Even though she didn't know the reason, everything I had done was to help her. To make sure she didn't give up, to make sure she didn't suffer any more than necessary, to make sure she survived.

Images assaulted my mind before I had a chance to stop them: the red of Amarantha's hair, her naked body above mine, the blood of those I had tortured in the role I played as her whore. Flashes of Feyre's snapped arm, her being beaten by Amarantha's lackey, and the sight of her neck snapping now intertwined with the images I had endured for half a century.

It was getting hard to breathe as the panic attack set in and combined with the anger that had been set off by Feyre's words, I struggled to reign it in. It was taking a lot of effort to control my beast and the need to tell her the truth behind my actions Under the Mountain wasn't helping.

I opened my mouth and leaned towards her, the words at the tip of my tongue, but I could sense Mor's presence. Instantly, all traces of my loss of control were gone. I put on a lazy grin and told her, "We have company. We'll discuss this later."

Mor sauntered into the space in her typical self-assured mannered and I watched as the two interacted. Feyre was making some semblance of an attempt to be civil, but my cousin saw right through her. I could already sense that Mor had taken a liking to the brunette, most likely because she knew Feyre got under my skin, but partly because she knew of our bond.

I produced another fork for Feyre and answered the questions that she had as the two females ate. To this day, it surprised me how much Mor managed to scarf down and the fact that Feyre was eating made me happy enough given her current physical state.

"I didn't see you Under the Mountain," Feyre stated as she looked to Mor. I froze.

"Oh, I wasn't there," my cousin answered. "I was in—" _Velaris_ , she was going to say.

"Enough, Mor," I said, my voice a bit more forceful than I had intended, but necessary. Feyre could not know about the existence of Velaris. I knew that the moment she returned to the Spring Court, Tamlin would interrogate her about my court. The City of Starlight had remained hidden from the world for millennia and I intended to keep it that way even if it meant hiding it from my mate, at least until Tamlin's claws were no longer embedded in her heart.

I let Feyre know that Mor would be around if she wanted to seek her company, but I wasn't kidding about her lesson.

"If he pisses you off, Feyre, feel free to shove him over the rail of the nearest balcony," Mor stated through a mouthful of muffin. Without skipping a beat, I gracefully flipped her off though was laughing on the inside as Feyre rose from her seat. I had missed the banter and jest that came with being surrounded by my family. Mor continued to eat her breakfast as Feyre and I departed.

Ҩ

In the end, Feyre decided that learning to read and learning to shield were necessary. The main reason for her agreeing to the latter was probably so she could keep me out of her mind.

I had no idea what she knew, so I started by giving her a piece of paper with the alphabet written out on it. "I know my alphabet. I'm not that stupid," she said with a bite. I watched as she played with her fingers before sitting on them to keep herself from fidgeting. Feyre was the opposite of stupid, she was clever and a quick-study, proven with her fight against the Middengard Wyrm.

"Can't you hire a tutor?" A lovely blush appeared on her face. I relished in the affect I had on her, but I knew it was because she loathed me. There was hope that those feelings would change someday as I was particularly skilled in wearing people down with my charm and good looks.

"Is it that hard for you to even try in front of me?" I knew part of her reluctance was because she didn't want me to see her struggle.

"Of course. Bur none as enjoyable as seeing you squirm."

"You're a real bastard, you know that?"

I chuckled at her words. "I've been called worse. In fact, I think you've called me worse." I directed her attention to another sheet of paper I had written on. "Read that."

She was nervous, asking me questions in attempt to distract me. She slowly sounded out the words of the sentence I had written, only needing my help with one of the words before she looked at me incredulously, slightly angry.

" _You look absolutely delicious today, Feyre?!_ That's what you wrote?" Her voice was raised as I leaned back and our eyes met.

With no effort, I slipped into the breadth of her mind, invisible claws caressing before I spoke without speaking: _It's true, isn't it?_ The fashion of the Night Court suited her and I told her as much after I dug my mental claws deeper into her mind, commanding her entire being with barely a thought of my own to prove my point on the importance of mastering her mental shields. I clawed my way in even further as I told her to shove me out.

I watched as she blindly tried to shove me out of her mind, pushing and slamming in any way she could. After a few moments, I was taken by surprise as a wave of Feyre had me sputtering. I loosened my grip reluctantly. "Good," I said, not letting my surprise show.

After a conversation that left me in a fit of rage about freedom, obedience, Tamlin-this, and Tamlin-that, I left her to copy the alphabet and practice her shielding. Winnowing back to the dining nook, I slumped down across from Mor, who was now snacking on breakfast meat.

"You kind of look like my father after you've visited the Court of Nightmares," Mor stated, earning a glare from me. The topic of Feyre becoming a trophy wife, hanging off of Tamlin's arm, always set me on edge. She was meant for much more than hosting parties and bearing children for the rest of her life. Feyre deserved every star in the night sky handed her, though she could very well get them herself.

"She hates me, Mor," I muttered, running a hand through my dark hair. The look on my cousin's face softened with sympathy. She was the only one who knew Feyre was my mate and I wanted to keep it that way for the time being. Though I trusted my Inner Circle with my life, this was an extremely delicate matter.

Feyre needed to come to me by choice. Stealing her away from Spring Court or arranging an 'accident' for Tamlin, as Cassian would likely suggest, would lead to her hating me forever with no chance of redemption whatsoever.

I wouldn't risk it.

Mor moved to perch on the arm of the chair I occupied, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Just give it time, Rhys. All she knows is what Tamlin has given her and told her. When she sees things from a different perspective, she'll come around. You just need to do what we do best, dream and push forward." When I didn't speak, Mor asked, "Do you want to come with me to the Court of Nightmares? You can let out some of that pent up resentment towards Tamlin on Keir."

I considered the invitation, but declined my cousin. The idiots that made up my court in the mountain beneath me would only make my mood worse. There was also the possibility that anyone who breathed the wrong way would end up misted.

With some time to kill before needing to return to Feyre, I leapt off of the nearest balcony and took to the skies. Flying almost always helped clear my mind and settle down my emotions. My home above the Court of Nightmares was a marvelous sight and as much as I didn't my official court, it was still significantly better than being anywhere Under the Mountain.

My thoughts drifted to Feyre, who was wearily dragging her shields up and down. When they were down, I could sense the nervousness she felt followed by flinches at any sound she heard. I hated that she had been through so much to make her this way. And Tamlin was no help, failing to see that his _betrothed_ was falling apart in front of him. I would mist him for that and that alone.

At the end of the hour, I returned to where I left Feyre, my wings once again hidden from sight. I stood a safe distance away in order to avoid startling her. Once I knew she was aware of my presence, I closed in and looked over her shoulder. The papers were filled with the letters of the alphabet, starting off shaky and unsure before becoming confident and assertive.

Without warning, I also slipped into her mind to see how her shields were doing. Scraping my mental claws along, I was met with black, glittering adamant. I was amazed at the progress she had made in a mere hour.

I purred out, "Well, well, hopefully I'll be getting a good night's rest at last, if you can manage to keep the wall up while you sleep." A full night's sleep was unlikely for me in any case. I had my own nightmares to deal with, but no one else needed to know that.

Feyre dropped her shield long enough to send one word down the mental bridge of ours: _Prick._

"Prick I might be, but look at you. Maybe we'll get to have some fun with our lessons after all."

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Comments, reviews, input, love, and everything in between is welcome!

Thank you to those who have left me review! They are sometimes quite motivating and are a good kick in the butt.

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Ciao, darlings.


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